


Til Death Do Us Part

by Von_Helheim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 05:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17054291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Von_Helheim/pseuds/Von_Helheim
Summary: Many in the Wizarding World could tell you off the top of their head what happened the night of October 31st, 1981. They would tell you how little Harry James Potter defeated You-Know-Who with an impressive feat of magic that blocked the killing curse, and sent the Dark Lord to his demise. But what if instead, something completely different happened, something unexpected, that would change this world?





	1. Death Is But The Next Great Adventure

Death Is But The Next Great Adventure

Chapter One

"And they lived happily ever after", the soft spoken words fell on deaf ears, as the typical story book ending was delivered and accepted with ease.

The old tome was closed softly as a young woman glanced down at the now sleeping babe, with tuffs of curled black and brown topping his head, which lay silent in her fair skinned arms. The Babe was only a bit past his first birth year, and — as any decent young child would— had promptly fell into a blissful sleep to the sound of his mother's melodically pleasant voice. The young mother (and she was indeed young at only 20 years of age) smiled softly at the adorable sight of her darling baby boy curled into her while sucking delicately at his small pale thumb. The woman stood, careful not to jostle the child in her arms, and swiftly made her way to the mahogany crib stationed in the center of the mellow colored nursery. She set her baby down, ever so gently as to not wake him, and kissed his bare forehead as a token of goodnight.

"Goodnight" the woman softly spoke, voice not even above the volume of a whisper, but those words too fell on the deaf ears of the small child. The woman turned and quietly made her way to the nursery door and opened it, not even making a sound as she slipped through the slightly widened crack of the doorframe. The woman's tender smile was still etched in her face.  
She made her was downstairs to an open living space, only to find a young man perched warily by the fireplace, worry frozen on his features making him look years older as strong hands laid anxious in his lap. The you man heard the woman's soft footsteps and turned, a smile readily replacing any worry that remained on his features.

"Did you put Harry to bed?" The man asked, his hazel eyes showing a soft loving light at the mention of the young babe in the room above them. "I know just how difficult he can be at bed time! Get that from his old man, he makes me proud", the man continued as if to make a point, a teasing smile making its way to his lips. The woman approached with a sigh.

"You know as well as I do James that, if anything, he is difficult only because you and your friends are horrible influences. My little Harry, while he may be difficult at most times, cannot resist the charms of the lovely classic, Beauty and The Beast", the woman sat down in the nearby love seat sofa, a knowing twinkle shining in her eyes as she gazed at James.

"Come on Lily-flower! You know I was just teasing you", James poked fun at his wife as he took the adjacent seat to her on the sofa, laying a comforting hand on her hip.

"I know James, I know", Lily spoke, her gaze softening at the sight of her husbands silly grin. But her eyes soon darkened with sorrow. "How much long James? How much longer do we need to stay in hiding? I know the war is climaxing, and I know that Professor Dumbledore insist that it's the safe thing to do, but I just can't take it anymore! The constant fear, the limited visits, even Harry can sense something is wrong, and he's just over a year old! I'm at the end of my rope, James".

James ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the already messy locks in his frustration. His a defeated sigh he placed his other hand on Lily's thigh as a show of comfort.

"You know as well as I do, Lily-flower, and that is that we stay in hiding until it's safe. Until he no longer torments us, because that what we can do right now. I can't fight right now and you can't fight right now. I know it's painful Lily, but we have to deal with this. Not only for our families safety, but for the safety of the world. We need to stay here, no matter how long it will—"

"But how long will that be James?!" Lily faced her husband, unshed tears were noticeable in her eyes. Her voice had cracked and she was on the verge of breaking. Breaking down from anxiety and stress, from the untold burden that she held to keep her small family together. Breaking from the constant smiles and reassurances to her young toddler that nothing was wrong. Breaking because of everything.

James pulled her close to him determined not to let go. This was his family, this was his entire life, at stake in this grueling wait for salvation. He would never let go of his beautiful wife and equally beautiful son, not for as long as he lived. They were his everything.

"I don't know Lily, and I may never know. But we will get through this. Harry, you, and I will get through this, together, as a family", James ran a soothing hand through her bright auburn hair. He spoke in such a determined and certain way that Lily had no choice but to believe him. To believe in the hope that he brought her. When James was with her, Lily felt as it the entire world could not stop them. Her family, forever together and strong. She buried her head into his broad chest and let his, in her opinion, dorky and adorable face lay on her head in a comforting embrace.

But alas, the happiness and comfort of the small family was not to be. For the only fate that the star-crossed husband and wife would face that night, would be death.

Suddenly, the door to the small cottage in Godrics Hollow was blasted off its hinges, the door tearing itself apart and scattering across the entryway in small wooden pieces. The loud and rough sound jumped Lily and James from there blissful and relaxed state, signaling a battle reflex that was almost instinctive to each of them. Wands were drawn and fast pants were taken as silence engulfed the room for what felt like hours. James crept ever so slowly towards the empty doorway, peeking his head cautiously at the darkness that seemed to sweep through the barren entrance. James gathered his Gryffindor courage and jumped in front of the doorway, wand raised and ready, his hands trembling slightly from anticipation. The his eyes began to blow wide, his mouth opened and an abrupt shout was aimed towards Lily in desperation.

"LILY ITS HIM! HE CAME FOR HARRY! GET HARRY AND GET OUT OF H—" The shout was cut off by two simple words, words that would change this household forever.

"Avada Kadavera!" A raspy shadow seemed to his as a bright luminescent green light surrounded and threw James into the wall parallel to his form with such force that, if the spell had not already killed him, would have ruptured his internal organs and cause him to bleed internally. But James was dead, and no damage to his body now would do anything.

James Potter knew no more.

Lily was frozen, her mouth wide and agape, as shock filled her entire being. Then it hit her like a brick to the face, that her beloved husband was dead and the madman that they had been hiding from had found them. Lily bolted up the stairs of the small cottage, tears flowing from her bright green eyes (the same color green as the light that had just caused her husband to perish) and with only one thing on her mind as she sprinted with all her might to the cozy nursery of her small innocent Harry.

Lily burst through the nursery door with little elegance, only vaguely aware the her Harry was wide awake and wailing his small head off. Lily grabbed her child, preparing to apparate to the nearest safe house available, only to feel a familiar pulling sensation of wards being placed round her home. By now, desperate tears filled her eyes and began to furiously fall. Lily tightened her grip on her babe, feeling him calm only slightly by her comforting embrace. Lily smiled a defeated and miserable smile at her child, know that even if they made it out of this alive, her Harry would never grow up with a father.

Suddenly, the nursery door was forced off its hinges in much the same way as the front door. In strode a man with a serpentine like appearance and hollow cheeks, his red eyes sweeping the small room before coldly settling on the pair huddled in the corner next to the crib.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had arrived.

Lily stood, a determined and desperate air around her as she carefully placed a powerful sleeping charm on little Harry and set him in the crib. A protective stance was taken as she stood in front of her child, a mother's protective instinct shining in her bright emerald eyes, eyes her young baby shared. Lily met Lord Voldemort's gaze, a glare ever prominent on her facial features. Voldemort stares back unimpressed.

"Give me the boy and you shall live, girl", Lord Voldemort hissed, his raspy serpentine voice almost meshing the words together. Lily shook her head strongly, ignoring the tears in her eyes.

"You will not take my son! I will never allow it!" Lily's trembling voice met the ears of the Dark Lord, her wand pointed at Lord Voldemort in a desperate attempt to defend herself and her child.

"Step aside you foolish girl! You need not die!" The Dark Lord demanded yet again of the young mother, but she stood her ground.

"NO!" The shout was screamed by a determined voice, a voice that would not waver.

"This is your last opportunity, girl. Step aside!" Lord Voldemort demanded, growing ever more irritated with the woman in front of him, as he readied his own wand for his strike. The Dark wizard met the woman's gaze with furious eyes.

"I will never back down! You will not take my child way from me. Of you must kill anyone else, kill me! But please don't kill my Harry!" Lily's cries sounded completely desperate, as her hope quickly abandoned her. Her once confident tone had wavered, but her love for her child outweighed all common sense. She wanted to live, but she wanted him to live even more.

"Very well", and with that the Dark Lord Voldemort cast the dreaded unforgivable curse that ended all life. Lily Potter stood, unmoving, as the curse speed towards her. She knew that if she moved, the dreadful curse would hit her beloved baby boy. She she stood, and her last thoughts were of her child, and her wish for him to survive and live a happy life.

Lily Potter, then, knew no more.

Lord Voldemort stared in indifference towards the now dead matriarch of the Potter Family, a grudging respect forming for her deceased form. But he quickly shock it off, for respect for the dead was not why he had come here.

Lord Voldemort strutted with confidence over to the mahogany crib to the silent and magically sleeping babe. A cold glare was aimed at the seemingly harmless child, almost as if the entire worlds problems were because of this one babe.

"Now little Harry Potter, you will never grow to end me. You will never grow to realize your power. And you will never grow to become a beacon of light", the Dark Lord Voldemort apple in his hushed raspy tone, a triumphant smirk making its way to his face. "After all, you will never grow older to see what I will make of this world".

With a flourish of his wand, Lord Voldemort spoke the words that ended the lives of little Harry Potter's parents and the countless lives of many, many more. Those dreaded two words, a flash of green erupted form his wand, and the world slowed. It was as if time had stopped completely. The air grew colder, much colder, to the point that the breath of

Little Harry and Lord Voldemort was visible. Then, almost as if it were possessed, the air began to whirl around the nursery at untold speed, taking miscellaneous toys and debris from the door with it. Shadows from the sides of the room began to close in on the two humans, making the Dark Lord increasingly uncomfortable. An unnerved feeling ran down the spines of Lord Voldemort and all the mortals of the universe, as goosebumps tingled their skin, almost as it their senses were trying to warn of a coming event that would alter the events of history.

Death had come to interfere once more with the mortal realm, and this time for only its own amusement.

The vibrant green light hit the child, but instead of having the desired effect that Lord Voldemort expected, the light surrounded the babe in a protective coat, wrapping the child in soothing magic. The baby, who had somehow woken from his magically induced slumber, giggled silently as he attempted to play with the glowing light that seemed to avoid being touched my the babe. The Dark Lord starred in fear and disbelief at the sight, for how was this possible? This small baby has the power to stop the killing curse? Impossible! There was no way for this to happen! The Dark Lord refused to believe it, even if the sight was obviously right I front of him.

Suddenly, a cold skeleton hand lurched itself from the shadows that had gathered around the two humans, the man and the child. The bone hand attached itself violently to Lord Voldemort's white and sunken neck, attempting to strangle the serpentine man. The shadows, which had gathered just moments before, grew furious as the skeleton hand achieved nothing but a slight panic from the Dark Lord. The hand seemed to pause for only just a second as power began to swarm and fester inside the skeletal appendage.

Then, the Dark Lord began to scream.

He screamed incisively at the painful burning sensation that was engulfing his very being and ripped at his very soul. His flesh began to flay and crumble, his skin and bone became dust, and his screams grew to a maddening volume and before little Harry could once again blink — Lord Voldemort was nothing more than a pile of black cloth and scattered sand.

And the Dark Lord Voldemort knew no more.

The green light that seemed to be protecting little Harry disappeared, leaving behind only a small red scar on the child's forehead. A scar in the shape of a lightning bolt, positioned on the young babes forehead on his right side. The still present shadows began to gather just to the left of the crib, before a cloaked skeletal figure emerged from their dark depths. The cold creature reached for the baby, his bone like hands dwarfed the child as they held the babe to the cloaked figures supposed chest. Little Harry giggled in contentment, ignorant to all that had happened in the house just minutes before. The creature held the child with absolute care before a melodically voice seemed to breach every crevice of the small nursery.

"Young little Harry, thou hath been the chosen ones reincarnation. This time is not meant for a sweet soul such as thee, for the deck that fate hath dealt you is unfortunate. But this will change, for thou will have a destiny to fill", the creature spoke with a sort of smugness and comfort, almost as if it's voice was an everlasting embrace.

"A destiny created for thine own amusement".

The creature seemed to smirk down at the smiling child who was ignorant of the monologue the cold being seemed to be having. The being gathered the shadows around the forms of little Harry and itself. With a flourish of the creatures elegant coal black robes, both of them disappeared, leaving no trace at the crime scene that would have been known as 'the triumph over the greatest Dark Lord in history'. But that is not a reality that would come true, not if the entity could help it. For the creature had many plans for little Harry. Many, many plans.

And Harry Potter, the one favored by Death, would know so much more than any one of us could comprehend.


	2. It Takes Dedication to Raise a Child

It Takes Dedication to Raise a Child

Chapter Two

Nicholas Cadmus Peverell had always wanted children. He had dreamed about it since he was a boy. He dreamed about the day he would be able to pick up his little one and swing him or her around, or place them on his broad shoulders (because as a boy he envisioned himself with very broad shoulders) and strut them around his manor, or just listen to their incisive chatter and give them anything that they desire. Yes, Nicholas very much wanted children — hopefully more than one— and he was determined to get children too! But alas, it was not to be.

Nicholas Cadmus Peverell was a eunuch, someone who had been castrated at a young age because of unfortunate circumstances.

This unfortunate piece of information had severely damaged Nicholas' goals and wants in his life, for how could he have a child if he could not make one? He could not even have a bastard! For the man reaching almost forty years in age, life was starting to look very lonely. Nicholas Peverell was the last male heir to the Peverell dynasty, and with no one to pass his fortune and inheritance to, it looked like when Nicholas died all of the wealth would go to either the Gaunt's or the Potters as the last direct lines connecting to the original three Peverell brothers. While Nicholas had nothing personal against either one of the... prominent families, one of them was a notorious light oriented family with ties to some very foolish and brash people who would ruin all of the hard work and prestige that the Peverell family had put into their name and the other was so dysfunctional that the only known member that could take over lordship was an insane, inbred megalomaniac with a pension for torturing his rich muggles neighbors. Yes, the future of the family was not looking to good, and Nicholas couldn't help but feel responsible. After all, all of his troubles would be solved if he could only just have a child.

But as the proverb goes, one must be careful what one wishes for.

It was late in the night on September 15th, 1931. The air was brisk and clean while the wind was slight and blew a chill into the magical province of Barnton, a small town located east of Liverpool. The only claim to fame the small homey town had was to a notable upstart Quidditch team, with was started in the early 1800s, called the Barnton Bludgers. It was a quiet town, with kind quiet people, and a kind quiet benefactor.

Nicholas Cadmus Peverell lived in this small magical town of Barnton at the top of a grassy hill in a large manor. He enjoyed the quiet and was often found with either a heavy tome in his hand or a lit cigar. The middle aged gentleman was seen as the kindly founder of the towns many programs, such as their notable primary schooling for young Witches and Wizards, as well as their small cultural center for everyday hobbies and fine arts. He had funded the local Quidditch team, both younger and older generations, and had connected the small town with a designated portkey and apparation center in the towns City Hall. The town was only a few miles in area, but everyone knew each other.

And it was home.  
But, on that fated September day, something happened that would change the course of every single residents lives for a long time to come.

Up along a winded path, on a grassy and lush hill, stood a large manor. It was an old manor, one could tell. It's grand stone walls were covered in attractive vines, the garden was overrun with wild flowers and large intertwined trees (magical or otherwise) with a large elder tree standing proudly with its pale white wood and burgundy leaves, and the manors long Victorian windows stood predominantly in the front of the mansion. A stone archway made way to large mahogany wood doors —real wood, mind you— and shadowed the elegant marble stairs and statues that decorated the porch. Yes, the manor definitely looked like it had come from money.

On the grand manor steps, just below the archway, shadows from the setting sun began to gather and swarm, making it seem as if the wild darkness was sentient. They thickened and condensed and seemed to flow to form an entity, a creature with skeletal assets. The same ancient creature that took little Harrison Potter from his home and time period.

Death.

At first, only Death's long bone-like skeletal hands emerged from the shadows, this time a thin layer of milky white flesh covered the otherwise bare bone. Then, held in the thin fleshed appendages was a small child whose soft snores were heard as he snuggled into the cold flesh of the ancient creature. The rest of Death's body stepped gracefully out into the marbled porch. Slowly but surely, the ancient being stood to an abnormally large height and straitened its otherwise hunched form. Unlike when it was in Godrics Hollow just moments before, where the entity was a bare skeletal creature, this spindle-like limbed creature that was standing in the entryway to the Peverell manor was very obviously a human male. The male was extremely tall and seemed to be increasingly gaunt and lanky. His skin was a milky white pallor, almost as if no blood ran through his veins (and there probably was no blood in the eternal creature), and his face was hollow. His cheeks were sunken and dark half-moons decorated the skin underneath his eyes. Regal arched eyebrows rose above charcoal black eyes that seemed to smolder. His hair was short and gelled back out of his sunken face. He looked sickly —ill, to be precise— and exactly as one would picture Death personified as a human.

Which was exactly what the, now male, entity was going for.

Death tugged at the pale skin on his arm, while adjusting little Harry appropriately, and exaggerated a sigh in discontent.

"Thee's Human meat suit 'tis quite uncomfortable", with a slight frown, Death went back to cradling the small mortal in his arms with little enthusiasm. "Thou hath better entertain me, little not-Ignatius", a pondering look reached his face, "or would thou be little Harrison? Reincarnation still confuses thy".

The tiny babe, who was still asleep, turned softly and gave no response.

"Hm. The small infant would seem to not answer philosophical questions. How dull is thy babe", with a purse of his dull lips Death glided up the marble steps, thinking on the young child's many trials that fate would make him endure. Well, Death would be there to guide the babe. After all, why would he go through all of this work only to let the reincarnation of his favorite mortal die... again. Yes, Death would not make the same mistake of leaving his favored be to live out a peaceful life and, God forbid, die of natural causes. It would simply not be done.

With a flourish, Death summoned a warm basket, a gold and deep purple quilt lain neatly and comfortably inside it, and placed young Harry inside gently. Once little Harry Potter was situated and still snoring softly, Death reached into his long black robes and pulled out a prim white letter made out to Nicholas Cadmus Peverell in navy blue ink (just because he was Death, did not mean he could not enjoy colors other than black). With a deep sigh and a gentle press of his index finger to little Harry Potter's head, Death bid three knocks on the mahogany door and vanished back to his shadowy domain of corpses and inconvenient paperwork, much of which Death assumed was only there to keep him busy because of its absolute pointlessness.

Nicholas Cadmus Peverell was enjoying a thick mystery novel, by a Muggle with the name of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, when he had heard the three consecutive knocks at his doors.

"Now who could that be, especially at this hour!", Nicholas closed his delightful novella with an irritated clap, his British accent thick. Someone had, after all, just interrupted his precious relaxation time. "Bonny, be a dear and please answer the door. Then show our guest to the lounge please". With a small pop, a male house elf in a purple and black uniform entered the room, bid Nicolas a "yes, Master Nicholas" and exited to get the door.

"I wonder who it could be, especially at this hour", his index finger gently massaging his salt and pepper goatee in thought, "I hope to the gods almighty that it is not Leonardo, that swine! Just because you believe that integrating an increasingly dangerous magical creature habitat into our small town will increase tourist rates, does not mean that it is a good idea! I keep telling him we have neither the time nor the resources to house chimeras and dragons! Those damn mongrels—"

Nicholas' ranting was abruptly cut off by a high pitched squeal and a screech which was vaguely pronounced in a way that sounded much like the words "Master Peverell". Startled, Nicholas stood abruptly in a panic, his eyes wide as he assumed the worse. He drew his cypress wand, fourteen and a third inches in length with a heartstring from a female Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, and apparated to the entry hall in a haste.

"Bonny! What in the devil's name is going on?! You know better than to scream—" Nicholas' regal voice trailed off in disbelief and amazement. He was at a complete loss for words as he stared at his house elf with wide amber eyes. In front of him, in the arms of a small uniformed household servant, stood the answer to all of Nicholas Cadmus Peverell's hopes, dreams, and current problems. There, in the arms of his loyal Bonny, stood a beautiful woven basket and a sleeping babe.

It was utterly impossible, utterly incomprehensible, and so very confusing. But poor Nicholas was too shocked to question it. All he could think of, was the cold wind from the outside blowing softly into the hallway that he and his guest occupied, and how much it must be chilling the young infant. Nicholas let his fatherhood instinct kickstart their way into his brain as he began to move towards his house elf.

"Prepare a warm blanket and set up a cradle and nursery connected to my room. Ask one of the other elves to warm some goats milk, only to a medium temperature, and prepare a moderate bath", Nicholas asked of the small elven creature as it stood wide eyed and uncertain.

"Master Peverell, what about the child?" Bonny questioned to his master, sympathy for the small, smaller than himself, human skyrocketing.

"Hand me the basket, I will be taking the child to the lounge. When you have time, a glass of brandy on the rocks would be appreciated", with a determined expression and already tired eyes, Nicholas took the woven basket from his servant and walked briskly to to lounge, knowing that apparating with a baby that small was incredibly foolish. The short walk was enough to clear his mind as his thought wandered to the entirely welcomed house guest that was huddled so adorably in the well-crafted basket, it's face huddled into a quilted blanket of... the Peverell house colors?

"Strange", wondered aloud the curious middle aged man, as he continued his walk with little-to-no pause. So many questions began to race through his head, each wanting a specific and detailed answer.

Who was the small babe? Where did it come from? And who would leave a small child unattended in the cold evening air of September?! Unbeknownst to Nicholas, all of his questions would be answered in a piece of old parchment that he had yet to notice.

Nicholas Peverell entered the lounge with a flourish, and headed straight for his plush loveseat to sit. This night was almost a bit too stressful for the peaceful life the man lived, and he most definitely needed to rest his already aching head. A soft pop was heard and the little uniformed head house elf presented his master with a brandy on the rocks. A minuscule smile graced Nicholas' lips.

"Thank you Bonnie. I have no idea what I would do without you, my friend". The elf bobbed it's head enthusiastically and disappeared with another soft pop, most likely going to do the other tasks that were assigned to him by his kind master.

Nicholas, after a long and deep gulp of his alcoholic beverage, gazed once more at the child next to him. His eyebrows began to punch together in concentration, a slow humming noise escaped his mouth compilation. That's when he noticed it.

The parchment with navy blue writing.

The head of the Peverell family narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Who in their right mind would leave a baby on a doorstep with only a letter?! Cautious, as to not wake the young child, Nicholas grabbed the letter and tore into the sealed parchment, effectively breaking the plain wax seal. He read its contents with open eyes.

"Addressed to Nicholas Cadmus Peverell, Head of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell. At least this uncultured barbarian knows my full title", Nicholas read with barely concealed distrust - he was, unsurprisingly, still reeling about this disgraceful person leaving a poor defenseless babe on his doorstep - "This young child has seen many unfortunate things this night. All of his guardians and direct family members have perished, and he was left in my care. The young child is a boy by the name of Harrison Ignatius Peverell. I have left Harrison with you, as his last and closest remaining family member and the head of his household, in order for you to care for him", Nicholas looked at the baby boy with newfound sympathy, after all, he too has lost his parents at a young age.

"His birthdate is July 31st and he is approximately a year old. I trust that you will care of him as if he were your own, for he has no other family to go to. I will stop by from time to time to see how young Harrison is fairing. I leave him with you because, besides being his only remaining legitimate family member, I am unable to provide him with a stable home life. I am placing my trust in you, Nicholas Cadmus Peverell, do not disappoint me. Thank you for your time and I hope both of you a happy future as father and son. With sincerity, Victor Rein Mortemus, Head of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Mortemus, Friend", Nicholas Peverell was left in a dumbfounded silence as he finished reading the elegant letter. Whatever he was expecting when he took this boy into his home, this newfound fatherhood was not it. Nicholas sat there in a contemplative stance, just staring in thought at the letter.

Now, Nicholas was not the time to simply let thing that bothered him go. No, he was the type that confronted his problems with grace and pose, determined to get his way and achieve his ends. He did not simply let things go.

But what could he do when all that the mysterious stranger (an audacious bloke at that) only left a letter with his name and a noble house he had never heard of! Yes, Nicholas was not the type to let things go, but he was the type to realize when to cut his loses and accept his own fate.

After all, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Well, it seems that you'll be in my care from now on, little Harrison. Let's get you out of that basket and into something warmer, yes?" Nicholas gently lifted the babe out of the beautiful basket with care. He would work out all the legalities at a later date, but as of right now, this boy was his son, and Nicholas was already feeling a protective love for the adorable infant who still laid asleep.

With his brandy abandoned on the table, Nicholas strolled casually to the foyer only to once again here the tell tale pop of Bonny. A gentle gaze rested on the House elf as said elf bowed low to his master.

"Master Peverell, the bath is prepared. It is located in the second floor master bath. Will Bonny be escorting the Master Peverell to the chamber?" The elf's educates speech fluctuated softly to an almost whisper, as if to soften his voice to not wake the young child in his masters arm. The elf straightened from his bow in order to more effectively look to his master for direction.

Nicholas looked at his faithful elf with kindness before he gave a soft reply.

"No, thank you, Bonny. I shall find the chamber on my own, though you have my thanks for running the bath for young Harrison here", the elf looked upon his master with reverence before his gaze shifted to the infant.

"Master Peverell, will the young master Harrison be joining the household? The other elves and I would like to know", the elf's bordering nervous speech reached Nicholas' ears, for no matter how many time Nicholas told the elves to speak their minds and ask questions, Bonny and the others would forever be uncomfortable with questioning their kind master.

"Yes, Bonny. You may tell the elves that this young child will be my child and heir from this day onward", a soft smile reached Nicholas' lips, "I am proud of you Bonny, you almost never ask questions! Keep up the brilliant work", a chuckle escaped the elder Peverell as a sheepish expression dashed the elves face before he quickly popped away.

Nicholas proceeded up the stairs to the second floor and made a sharp right to the west wing bath chamber, located just down the hall from the master bedroom. Nicholas quietly opened the door to the master bath, almost as large as an average bedroom. The granite tiles were covered with a plush and soft royal purple rug, gold decorating the multiple sinks and tubs, one made for a single persons use while the other looked to be a large five person tub. The smaller tub was filled with lukewarm water, just the right temperature, and seemed to be full of pleasant eucalyptus scented soap.

Chuckling softly, Nicholas laid Harrison on the provided purple and gold embroidered towels as the babe gently stirred. Before the babe could wake, Nicholas pulled his wand out of his forearm holster, positioned in his left arm, and cast a simple calming spell on the infant. After all, Nicholas was not sure if he was ready to deal with the infants tears just yet.

Harrison blearily opened his eyes and gazed curiously at the first thing he saw, an almost melancholy look present in his eyes. His gaze reached Nicholas and all Nicholas could do is resist the urge to gasp at the beautiful and bright green that was the baby's eyes. Nicholas smile softly at Harrison's inquisitive look before trying to comfort the child.

"Hello Harrison, my name in Nicholas Peverell and I'm your new caretaker. I am not sure how to talk to a child, so I am just going to talk as I usually would, would that be alright?" Harrison giggled adorable as Nicholas posed a question toward the year old child, "yes, I imagine I seem quite silly to you, don't I? Well, your are going to take a bath, for you seemed to be much in need of one", while Nicholas was somewhat aware the the infant could not understand a word he was saying, he felt more assured of what he was doing as he talked to the babe. Chuckling at his own unsure nature and Harrison's cute giggling, Nicholas quickly had the infant stripped and in the tub, watching in amusement as the child reached out to touch the green tinted bubbles littering the surface of the water. Gentle massaging Harrison's hair, Nicholas belatedly realized that Harrison look much like himself when he was a child. With pale olive skin that would darken to a nice tan as he grew older and dark brown, almost ebony, colored hair, style with what would turn into curled tuffs, Harrison would grow up to be a handsome child. Nicholas was determined to see him happy and content, fatherhood instincts once again driving him to gently smile at the bubble excited child with fondness, determined to support him in all his endeavors.

Once done with the warm bath Nicholas carefully picked up Harrison from the water and gently dried him off, amused at the whining and sad look Harrison gave the bubbles in the tub as he childishly wave goodbye to them. Nicholas realized that he had no cloths for Harrison before he looked to the right and noticed a fresh nappy and slightly large, for an infant, nightgown that would be good for temporary use. An amused smile reached Nicholas' features as he realized that his elves really did think of everything. Dressing Harrison in ten provided cloths was somewhat difficult, but Nicholas had once watched his friends infant daughter some years ago and vaguely remembered the process.

Nicholas picked up Harrison, slightly swinging him in a manner that made the baby once again giggle (It was a sound Nicholas was beginning to very much enjoy), and exited the bath chamber, leaving the door open in order to let the elves know that he was done utilizing it, while heading towards the master bedroom.

When Nicholas reached the door to the master bedroom, he realized that the baby in his arms had been unusually quiet during the walk to the bedroom. His gaze shifted to the infant in his arms before he realized that the little Harrison was fast asleep. A sigh and a smile graced his lips.

If being a father meant seeing, taking care of, supporting, and nurturing the child in his arms, making his happy when he's feeling down, and turning his into a man the he and Harrison would be proud of, the Nicholas would take being a father in stride.

Now if only he could figure out who on the world Victor Rein Mortemus was.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! One of my first stories published, any feedback is welcomed!
> 
> Don’t forget to comment and like!


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